


First Snow

by mementomoe



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Brief WoL appearance, Brief appearance of Alphinaud, Gen, Post-5.1, Post-Canon, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoe/pseuds/mementomoe
Summary: The first snow in a century may have questions to ask.Most importantly, is there a festival on the First like Starlight.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV Gift Exchange (2019)





	First Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Link13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Link13/gifts).



The Exarch has always been curious about the First. Their calendar is quite well-known to him, but in a world of eternal light and no weather, he had no idea which seasons were which. Where the years began and ended in the harvest.

What little he helped recover over the years only helped in the most basic of ways. More than once, he thought of trying to bring joy to the Crystarium, but it never felt right. These people struggled to survive. As time wore on, they became more capable, but the Exarch felt older and more broken. Too scared to start a tradition as the time for his only plan came to its first steps.

When snow first falls, he remembers the old idea. Starlight Festival. He could call it something else, but everything lined up. The Crystarium is stable, the Eighth Umbral Calamity has been forestalled. For some reason, the Exarch still draws breath. A time for gifts and friendships and curling up by a fire with sweets and drinks. These people need it.

The way these people, several of whom lacked grandfathers who knew weather existed, question the chill of this new precipitation, he knew it was a lesson, something to work on.

He passes through the doors and explores on his own, letting a smile pass his lips as he makes it clear this first flurry is nothing to fear. Much like the first storm of rain in a century.

The Exarch makes his way around, speaking with the leaders of the Crystarium and citizens alike. Assuring them they should not worry beyond needing perhaps some warmer blankets at night.

When he reaches the Cabinet of Curiosity, Alphinaud greets him. “It is quite interesting to see you about Exarch. Are you not cold?”

He waves his hand and shakes his head. “I can manage fine, Alphinaud. I wanted to find a book I remember reading some time ago.” Where some time was dozens of years back. “I recall there being a winter festival here I heard of, and wanted to know if I could replicate this. If not, I believe our home’s celebrations would be pleasant enough.”

“Starlight Festival,” Alphinaud says. The young man thinks about it for some time. “I did miss the constant celebrations in Eorzea I saw. I wished I had a moment to rest and enjoy them.”

“Perhaps you will, for once. Perhaps the others would like to come as well. I doubt there will be much to worry about.”

Alphinaud chuckles to himself. “You are quite different from the day you summoned me, Exarch. I don’t think the man you were back then would have considered this.”

Considered, but discarded. Too much frivolity would have been dangerous. “We are in a place where such celebrations would not be a strain on our materials. It can be a time of learning and sharing. Now, I must find that book about the old celebrations. See if there are songs, decorations, or meals to remind everyone of.”

Alphinaud nods. “Then perhaps I can see if there is anything I can use for Starlight Festival to fuse with it. I miss the dodo I had once.”

As Alphinaud starts to walk away, the Exarch raises a hand. “Ah, pardon me, one more thing, Alphinaud. Should you see someone confused about the snow outside, please assure them it is something you saw in our homeland. Claim that our friend managed to banish the Lightwarden there first if they ask more.”

Alphinaud smirks. “You seem to have every contingency planned for such a thing.”

“I’ve had a century to practice these half-truths, find the largest questions and answer them before another asks. Very few have seen past them.”

His friend leaves, and he starts to search the shelves. He knows the Cabinet is organized regularly, and Moren has several choices, but the system is not the same as Eorzea, and even then, many return the books in the first free space they find, instead of where they once were.

When he finds it, he discovers the Church of First Light celebrated the day after solstice, once daytime begins to grow again. A celebration he doubts many would care for after a hundred years of endless days.

The day before solstice would be better. But the foods and decorations don’t seem too tied to daylight. Even then, he can alter it with more night than day in the colorations. Blue and silver instead of white and gold. He can even enchant the candles to give off flames that match such a color.

He might need to change some of the songs, though, given they speak of the coming light.

With his understanding made, he tucks the book on a desk and walks out. As he leaves the Trivium, a gust of cold air blows, one he is certain didn’t exist when he entered the area. His robes are not meant for this.

However, he makes his way to the steps of the Tower and clears his throat. He twists his fingers for a small spell, something that could amplify his voice. “If I can have your attention, everyone,” he says.

Those in front of the Dossal Gate stop and turn to him.

“I have lived a very long time,” he says. “So I remember seeing snow like this in my youth. To me, it meant a time of giving. A time of songs. It seems the same is true here as it was in my homeland. I wish to bring back your old celebration, and, gods willing, add some of mine as well.”

He looks through the crowd, trying to find the faces of those he knows best. Lyna, Bragi, Fae-Hann, Katliss, Moren. He sees a few of those he knows. “Back in my homeland, we called the celebration Starlight Festival, and the one I read about Norvrandt celebrating was the Feast of the New Dawn. They share several elements I feel embody the spirit of the Crystarium. It is true we are hard workers through the necessity, but we have become a family unto itself through that work. A few days of rest, to eat together, rest, and give gifts. We deserve that.”

The speech is not something too planned, but he knows what to cover.

“Given the time of relative peace and prosperity the Crystarium and our sister city of Eulmore are in, we should discuss a time to hold it. I hope it will be soon, and forge new traditions to mix with the old we have only read about for a hundred years.”

His eyes look over those around the Exedra. More are there than before, but he has often been attention-grabbing despite his height. He feels like an imposter at times when these people look to him. Even though it’s been a century.

He sees one of Harig’s apprentices walk up. The Viis woman who is close to the broken node. “I think that would be wonderful, Exarch. Bringing back these memories. I look forward to learning new songs on my former master’s lute.”

“New foods to make, and perhaps I can make a special ale for the celebration.”

The Exarch smiles as he hears Glynard speak up, and others add in more. He hopes everything can work out.

“Should any seek my help, I will be here, at the Dossal Gate, every day at midday,” he says, letting the spell fades. “You may be able to find me elsewhere as I make my own preparations.”

With those words, he makes his way to the Musica Universalis. He’s certain the Viis — Thiuna, that’s her name — will hopefully share the news with the crafters of the Mean.

An old Starlight hymn comes to his lips as he looks at all the wares of the market. He can smell cider coming from a culinarian, and can see Y’shtola enjoying a cup, herself.

Lights and wreaths would adorn the tents well. He can make a prototype or two easily enough, and he can have Cassius contact the traders of Mord Souq tomorrow for some wool and twine. Perhaps he could seek help from Titania as well. Several lovely plants grow in Il Mheg. Such would depend on her emotions, but he would find something worth giving in exchange.

Gifts for the Scions and Ryne as well. Tokens of his thanks. Each helped him through the long game of watching the Wardens.

The next few days go quick. From him teach others some Eorzean traditions, listening to ideas from the fellow leaders of Crystarium and various citizens alike, he has little time to think about other things. However, Alphinaud and Y’shtola, at least, are not worried about the problems on the Source with their bodies, and neither him nor Beq Lugg knew what to say.

Two weeks is what people agreed on. Time to learn or compose songs, make decorations, plan recipes and purchase or make gifts. For the Scions and Ryne, he spent time making items each would appreciate. A fine rapier for Alisaie, a book of thick sheets and some of the best charcoal for Alphinaud, after he heard of the young man’s talents in portraiture. More cartridges for Thancred, along with some of the Crystarium’s finest mead, and a few interesting puzzles for Urianger. A few relics of Nabaath Areng and Voeburt from his collection for Y’shtola, and for Ryne, a few trinkets from the source, including the memoirs of Count Edmont Fortemps. He memorized the story years ago, and knows it would be something that Ryne could enjoy.

When the day comes, before he can leave the Ocular, the portal flares to life. He hadn’t expected the Warrior to know what would happen. Had something happened back on the source?

“G’raha,” they say. “I thought you would be here, but I must ask, where are the others right now?” They aren’t nervous as they speak. This is hopefully nothing bad, especially with a quite full pack on their side.

The Exarch feels his cheeks heat up, hearing his old name. The Warrior hasn’t called him the Exarch since that moment on top of Mt. Gulg. Always G’raha, and with all the love of a cherished friend. He clears his throat to speak up. “Y’shtola and Alphinaud are here, and the others should be here later today, if Alphinaud is to be believed.”

The Warrior beams. “Starlight Festival came a few days ago, and I thought none of you should be left out of the joy back on the Source because you’re in Norvrandt. Does Norvrandt even have a holiday like it?”

“Feast of the New Dawn,” the Exarch says. “I… we’re about to start the celebration again. It’s quite cold outside these past few weeks.”

They reach into their bag and pull out a present. “Then there must be some kismet today. When Starlight came to Eorzea, I thought about how your robes are well-made for keeping away heat, but the layers are quite fine. Your bonding with the tower or no, you deserve to stay warm at times like this.”

They hand over a box. It’s not quite small, but it doesn’t extend too far past his arms. There’s no wrapping, other than some ribbon hastily put on, a lopsided bow sitting off-center. Still, it isn’t how a gift is presented, but to think that among the others, his hero would think to get him something.

His ears twitch and he laughs, a smile on his face. “May I open it here? Or would you rather I wait.”

“Whichever you prefer.”

G’raha crouches down like when he was young, and undoes the bow. Lifts the top of the box. He’s greeted to thick wool from Coerthas, in red and black, with gold embroidery and fleece lining. He runs his left hand along it. Several pieces in a set. A warm cap, a pair of gloves, a cloak that seems to have been planned with his robes. Perhaps most interesting was under it all, a pair of trousers, Theyre tightly cut, but they should fit him. Even though they wouldn’t show under his robes, it would be an added defense, something near-invisible, but worth protecting.

“Happy Starlight, G’raha,” the Warrior says. “How lucky I am to see what you built here.”

G’raha sets aside most of the items for now, though knows he’ll wear them in the future. He pulls the cloak on and gathers his own gifts for the Scions, and some small ones for various others in the Crystarium. “And a lovely Feast of the New Dawn to you.”


End file.
